Coming Home to Meat?

This is an entry that I will dedicate to my father and my brother.

Some months back my brother had mentioned that he would like to contribute a thought to my blog but has not delivered anything since.

Over this Memorial Day weekend, my father, as he was routinely coming home from church (which is three blocks from his home) fell down in the middle of the sidewalk. A couple of good and kind New Yorkers helped him to get up and walked him home.

Did he trip? His legs have been weak these past few months. My father didn't go into details. This is typical of him. Besides being a man of few emotions, he is also the last to admit that he is sick. A half-brother and his wife had to come up from Philadelphia to help my mother nudge him to the hospital bright and early on Sunday morning. Two hours later, the doctors on duty at St. Luke's Roosevelt screened my father for abnormalities with his brain and heart. His blood sugar level was over the roof; his heart weak. The blood sugar level could have accounted for slight dizziness or leg weakness; the heart is another issue. My father was checked into the hospital and as I write up this entry, he will have been there for four days.

This is only the second time my father has been hospitalized since arriving in the United States in 1975. The first time was when I was in the ninth grade. He was in Buffalo, New York to check on one of his properties and somehow swallowed a tiny piece of chicken bone over dinner. A piece of the breast bone was lodged in his throat and he was having difficulties breathing. My father was taken to the hospital and the ENT (ear, nose, throat) specialists had to operate to get the bone fragment out. When my mother and us kids heard the news, we were frantic with worries. We were overly dramatic and imagined all sorts of horrible things happening; possibly death too. However, when the operation was over, and the doctors had succeeded in removing the bone without any damage to my father's throat and vocal chords, a huge joy swept over us. The best thing was that my father had to remain in the hospital for a few days, and then afterwards, recuperate in Buffalo for another week before flying home.

What that meant was that, one..my father was okay..and two...us kids were free to do whatever we wanted to in New York City, and we were thrilled!!! You must know by now that my father is a very strict man; it is his way or the highway. Growing up, as busy as he and my mother were, we could have never made a move without my father knowing. He is strict to the point of tyranny. Us kids were motionless when our father was around; for this reason, we screamed for joy at the fact that he was far away recuperating and we had the apartment to ourselves.

Please don't get me wrong; It isn't that we didn't love or respect him..we just feared him and as we got older, that feeling has stayed with all of us. I still never approach my father with any question other than, "How are you father?"
My father will say things to me, and I would gladly answer, but that is about it. The little person inside never moved beyond the little kid in the apartment.

I am glad my father is the way he is, or was the way he was, for if not, I think I would definitely be another kind of person. I have slowly learned to be more comfortable around my father (although it is still pretty hard to say goodbye to my father with a hug or a kiss)

The first sets of test showed that my father's arteries are weak to bring blood to the heart. Some more tests will be done tomorrow to see if this could be treated by medication. If not, balloon angioplasty (done with a deflated balloon and catheter)might be an option, and at worse, bypass surgery. My head is aching for my father. On one side, this is a blessing in disguise; It is great to find this out before the situation grows worse. But on the other hand, knowing my father, he is probably scared to death at the thought of having to undergo any procedure at all. One thing I am sure of is that his faith in God (he is so deeply religious) will help him through the next couple of trials ahead of him, and hopefully come out much healthier in the end.

I will head into the city to visit my father once again tomorrow. Maybe I will have to write some uplifting words to soothe him; God knows I can't say them to his face.

In the meantime, my brother had text the following long-awaited entry to me which he wrote on the plane coming into New York tonight:

"Two days after I celebrated my 36th birthday, I board my delayed flight to New York City. It's great to come back to the "City" anytime of the year, for any reason. I Love NY! I grew up there; my roots are deep. My family is always the main reason I visit. Always a good time, never a dull moment.. I say! On this visit, however, I will be coming to see my father as he lies on a hospital bed. It's only the second time that I have seen my Father "down". I am not looking forward to any of it but at least I will be by his side.
I will get in late tonight and it will be past the time that I could come visit him so I will hold off until the morning. It used to be that when I come back home, and my dad's out of town or something, I'd have this feeling of "when the cat's away, the mice will play!" It is ironic that when I was growing up and even to this day, my father scares me when he's around. He never physically abused us or anything like that at all but it is just in me that am nervous somewhat when he is around. Now, I find myself scared and sad that he is not there when I get home. It's not the same without him there, I know that now and so my prayers and wishes are for his speedy recovery. I want him to be at his desk looking over the lobby. I want him to ask me, "where are you going?" as I try to slip out unnoticed. I want him to ask me to go buy something for him at the discount store, a bunch of it! And finally, I want to be there at midnight on a Friday with him at the dinner table. Why? Only my family knows stuff like that, let's just say it involves meat!
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

And I ditto every single word you have expressed Joseph. I can't wait to see you tomorrow.

We are born into a life that has been shaped for us by our parents. How they live and love, we either try to mirror or deny. They are, after all, our first role models and for that alone, we must love and cherish them. They are all we've got in this world!